Godzilla: Strangers in The Night
by Keith E. Kimball
Summary: A famous monster meets a famous ship in this alternate reality tale.  Sure, sure, Alex Cox & Jean-Pierre Normand have both done it before...but I couldn't resist doing my own take.


_Godzilla: Strangers in The Night _/ Kimball - 27

Copyright © 2003 Keith E. Kimball

Approx. 7,759 Word Count

**E-Mail: **

**Godzilla:**

**Strangers in The Night**

by

Keith E. Kimball

"Bridge," Frederick Fleet called into his direct telephone line, "Iceberg ahead!" His voice was almost drowned out to those on the other end by his comrade, Reginald Lee, ringing the ship's warning bell enthusiastically.

By the time Fleet's call was being answered by his crewmate, First Officer William Murdoch - along with the rest of the bridge crew - could also see the large black shape materializing almost directly in the _Titanic_'s path. Murdoch flew to the telegraph connected to the engine room, tapping out the command to full reverse the engines even as he ordered the helm, "Hard a'starboard!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, the 883-foot long behemoth of a ship began to turn. Every man on the bridge and in the crow's nest alike held their breath as their metallic mountain of steel began clearing the formations of ice jutting from the seas near her starboard side. Convinced that her bow was out of danger, Murdoch followed up with the order to bring the ship back to port and save her stern from impact as well.

He was wrong. As the ship reached back toward an even keel again, she scraped against the iceberg for a full ten seconds. The berg stood so high out of the waters itself that small chunks broke off and littered the _Titanic_'s decks with the impact.

And a small hand reached out from the deck to touch the iceberg as the strangers passed, briefly touching, in the night.

Her hand was swiftly snatched back by her father's firm grip. Fearfully, Nikolas Damascu looked at his daughter's tiny, mitten-clad hand. He was very relieved that the ship's deck lights, despite being dimmed for nighttime, were more than bright enough to show the fast-traveling ice hadn't cut his little girl. In fact, Nikolas was relieved enough to half-snap, half-joke at her, "Alex! A little lady should know better than to go around snatching at strange icebergs! You'll catch your death of cold."

She giggled up at him. Then she curtsied clumsily, almost tripping in her thick winter wear. "Oh, Papa," she reminded Nikolas, "I can't get cold dressed like this! You made me put all this on, right?"

He sighed, looking over Alex's ensemble. It was more than chilly enough for him to be sporting a good thick overcoat and scarf himself. But normally a ten-year old would be bundled up to Alex's degree only if she was going for a snowball fight. Yes, he supposed he was a little over-protective.

Just a little. She was so small and delicate for her age.

Every day, Alex looked just a little more like her mother in his eyes.

And every time he thought of this, he prayed that somewhere, somehow, Natalya could see their daughter still.

Alex saw a familiar look she didn't quite understand stealing over her father's features. She did understand that whatever he was thinking made her Papa very bittersweet and she didn't entirely feel comfortable about it. So she decided to stave it off, returning to the boat deck's gunwale to look back at the iceberg receding quickly behind them.

"Look, Papa," she pointed toward the ship's assailant, "look how many there are!"

Nikolas joined his daughter, peering into the night. The moonless sky was crystal clear. Without the sort of pollution that would plague it in generations to come, the star-laden heavens gave their warmth as best they could. The ocean itself was a black mass even darker than the eternal night above. Inbetween, Nikolas' eyes focused through his thick glasses at the offending iceberg.

It seemed more a row of smaller icebergs clumped together, perhaps a large one fragmenting badly, than a single mass to him. The ice stood proudly above the waves in jagged, strangely symmetrical lines against the star-filled sky. Curious indeed.

Still, despite the loud, ugly scraping sound when they'd hit, Nikolas could feel the _Titanic_ was already speeding up once again. Clearly it had sounded a lot worse than it was. A quick look at the sea around them showed that other dark shapes were rising from the murk; the ship must've wandered into a full-fledged ice field. Yet none of them were a quarter the size of the ship's attacker.

Nikolas, realizing the worst was over, sighed deeply.

His daughter piped up, "Don't you think it was pretty, Papa?"

"Yes," he reassured her, "The ice is very pretty, Alex. Let us continue on, eh? We have some nice treats waiting for us." So saying, he rubbed his hands together to warm them up before taking a couple of steps ahead. Nikolas then stopped for a quick word with a older couple who'd come outside to see what all the noise was about.

Behind him, Alex paused at the gunwale for one last peek. The iceberg was barely discernible among the other shapes filling the darkening sea now.

Until it glowed. For an instant, blue-white waves of light rippled along the ice from one end of its length to the other. Before Alex could even think of calling her father, the glow was gone.

"Alex, come," Nikolas ordered gently.

The phenomenon reminded Alex of the auroras she'd seen back home in the Motherland, long ago. As she turned to follow her dad, Alex's gaze fell on a bit of ice that was lying on the deck. She bent over and pocketed it, wondering how she could get it to light up like that later. Wouldn't Papa be surprised if she could?

Alex was sure Nikolas knew how to make the ice glow already. His scientific achievements were enough to bring him to England when she was a little girl. But she'd been trying hard to figure out such things by herself lately. She decided to impress him with her achievement later.

With her back to him, Nikolas assumed his daughter was fixing her shoe straps when she retrieved the ice fragment. With her treasure safe, Alex allowed her father to take her hand once more. Nikolas steered them both toward the Cafè Parisian, located at the very back of the ship's highest deck, at a leisurely pace. All the way, father and daughter pointed out stars to each other. Nikolas challenged her to name all the constellations she could see; Alex got most of them right this time.

Compared to most of the _Titanic_'s luxuries, the Cafè was a very understated affair. It was a large room, tastefully furnished as its name would suggest: as an outdoor street cafè in the City of Lights. The ship's designers had put in many lovely trellises of plants and potted ferns to give the room some color. It had quickly become Nikolas' favorite place aboard since its atmosphere promoted peace and quiet.

As Nikolas has suspected, the cafè was nearly empty at this hour. A few people enjoyed a leisurely smoke as they sat scattered about the room. Already, the minor collision had been forgotten.

A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was just about midnight now. The cold night air had stolen his breath on the long walk from the ship's bow to the stern. He was glad to get indoors and was looking forward to sitting down. He envied the young, for Alex didn't seem to mind the trip at all.

A woman's voice suddenly rang out nearby, "Hello! Mr. Damcus, wasn't it? A pleasure to see you again."

Nikolas turned, speaking quietly, "It's Damascu, yes, Ms…ah, Wahlsman, correct?"

Charlotte Wahlsman jumped a little, making her skirts rustle, as she was shushed by the room's other patrons. Blushing slightly, the raven-haired woman laid a hand on her ample bosom revealed by her shoulder-baring, elegant green dress. Although she seemed to have forgotten his name, Nikolas would've had trouble forgetting the name belonging to a face like that peering out from under her broad, feathered hat. He'd feigned the moment's lapse to afford Charlotte a chance to recover some of her dignity.

Which was actually the other reason Charlotte was often unforgettable to those around her. Since bumping into her at the start of the voyage a few days ago, Nikolas had trouble fathoming how such a refined-looking woman could be so clumsy. With her words as well as her rather attractive body. It was also, he suspected, why such a beauty would still be unattached at their age.

Charlotte, for her part, took the moment to glance Nikolas up and down as well as if confirming her memory. Actually, she was. And she liked what she saw now just as much as she did then. Pushing thirty years old, she guessed, but Nikolas retained much of his youthful looks. Although a few decades from his childhood on the farm had softened him, and he did have those thick glasses, Charlotte enjoyed the set of his still-broad shoulders and short, trimmed beard.

In a tone more respectful of others' privacy, Charlotte said, "Of course. My apologies, Professor." She smiled, a little shyly, and added, "So many people on such a large ship! I'm lucky to remember my own name, at times."

She seemed on the verge of saying something else when the tiny shape huddled against her dad's coat attracted Charlotte's attention. "Oh, hello!" she squealed loudly, "Who is this, then? Don't be shy, dear heart." The lady got a more forceful shush from the onlookers this time.

Alex hadn't encountered Charlotte before. The little girl wasn't normally shy, but the bigger woman's loud clothing and louder manners were attracting too much attention for her taste. She continued pressing against her father's leg, blushing slightly.

Grinning fondly, Nikolas reached down to ruffle his daughter's hair peeking out of the back of her winter cap. "Alex," he quietly admonished, "say hello to Ms. Wahlsman. This is my daughter, Alexandra."

Nikolas politely averted his gaze from Charlotte's generous cleavage as the lady leaned forward to address Alex face-to-face. "Hello there," Charlotte said, "I'm so pleased to meet you, Ms. Damascu."

Despite herself, Alex was impressed that the lady was making such an effort to speak to her as an equal. She grinned, "Hello, Ms. Wahlsman." Then she quickly buried her face in her Papa's coat again.

The professor returned his attention to Charlotte as she straightened up. She smiled at him, ticking a finger in slightly mocking disapproval. "I'll bet that little cutie is the reason you're up and about at this hour, isn't it?" she wondered.

"Yes," Nikolas confirmed, "We have a habit of little walks to see the stars. This clear sky was irresistible."

"Oh, heavens me," Charlotte continued, "How rude to keep you both standing here in your outdoor clothes! Please, let's sit and have a cup of something warm, yes?"

It was an invitation Nikolas would be hard-pressed to refuse. Even though it did cause a ill-defined feeling of guilt to well up in him as Charlotte steered both Damascus toward a table. When Nikolas realized it was his host's gender that was causing his misgivings, Nikolas tried to silence his thoughts sternly.

How foolish, he knew, to feel like he was betraying a wife long gone merely by having a polite conversation with a rather immature and tarty woman. Actually, as Nikolas spied the disproving looks coming to Charlotte from so many other patrons, he found his guilt quickly transforming into pity. He had felt so outside and alone when he'd left the Old Country for a new life. It would not hurt to spend a moment's time and afford Ms. Wahlsman some conversation.

As Charlotte helped Alex get some of her gear off and settled in at a small table, the stewardess manning the bar - so to speak - appeared. With a quiet smile, she proffered a tray laden with two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

Charlotte promptly backed up into the stewardess, tipping the tray over. The stewardess' quick reflexes saved one mug; the other cascaded down the back of Charlotte's hoop skirt. Although the stiff whalebone framework of the skirt kept the hot liquid from touching her skin, it did stain all the way down the garment from her hips to the floor.

The stewardess quickly starting dabbing at the mess with a handful of napkins, apologizing profusely. Blushing as well, Charlotte waved her concerns away, "No, no, no, dear. I caused it; I apologize to you. Don't fret, dear. I have quite a few more just like it in my wardrobe. I'll just have to live with it for a few moments while we enjoy our little get-together, won't I?"

Seeing that the lady meant her words, the stewardess politely raised her eyebrows to the professor. "Thank you, Ms. Randolph," Nikolas told her as he took the surviving drink and placed it before his daughter.

"My pleasure, Professor," the stewardess returned, "I was afraid Sir and Madam wouldn't be joining us tonight." With a little wave to Alex, the stewardess turned to Charlotte for her order.

"Make it three, please," Charlotte sent her off, "I wouldn't want to be the odd woman out, now would I?" Allowing Nikolas to push her chair in as a gentleman should, Charlotte carefully tucked her skirt into the chair to prevent the chocolate stain from showing. As he found his own seat, Nikolas explained to Charlotte, "The drink is a little part of our stargazing tradition, eh?"

Alex was eyeing the woman a little warily. She seemed nice enough, but there was something - _possessive_ - in the way she was looking at her father. The little girl turned to her drink as the adults chit-chatted.

Suddenly Alex realized Charlotte was talking to her. She tuned in, blushing. "I'm sorry, Ms. Wahlsman. Could you repeat that?"

Charlotte seemed pleased when Alex said that. "Such proper manners!" she said, mindful to keep her voice down this time, "You're a wonderful little lady, Alexandra. You must make your father proud." As Nikolas nodded agreement to that, Charlotte studied Alex critically for a moment.

Then, grinning widely, she generously took the large feathered hat off her own head and plunked it right atop Alex's own. It was a little big, even with her own winter cap on to help fill it out, and the girl had to push it back to see. She laughed as the huge feather hanging over the brim tickled her nose. Alex's giggle drew yet another grumble from the room. One man actually left over the interruptions.

"Oh," Nikolas said, "That's very nice of you, Ms. Wahlsman, but you shouldn't have bothered. You'll catch cold without it and Alex's own cap should do her just fine."

"Why, thank you for your concern, Professor Damascu," Charlotte batted her eyelashes, "But as you might guess by my evening gown, I intend to stay indoors tonight anyway." She gave a little wave toward her stretchy bodice to remind Nikolas just how much skin was exposed to the elements anyway.

Nikolas' beard helped hide his blush. Alex, meanwhile, was getting more and more confused. One second she really liked this lady, the next she wasn't so sure.

Gratefully the little girl lost herself in her drink again as the adults received theirs from the returning stewardess. Cocking an eyebrow at Nikolas, Charlotte asked, "So, are you looking forward to visiting America, Professor Damascu?"

"Oh, indeed," Nikolas returned, "My project should only last a few months. Little time for sight-seeing, I'm afraid, before we must return to Britain. Nevertheless, it should be a fascinating opportunity."

"If you don't mind my asking," Charlotte lowered her voice, "I do believe your proud name is a Russian lineage, correct? Might I ask why you've come so far abroad as Great Britain to start with?"

The mention of the Motherland caught Alex's attention. Nikolas noticed her peering over her cup as he replied, "I love my country, Ms. Wahlsman. I still have many dear family members and friends there. But my work was far too complex for the simple tools at my disposal in Russia. It would be a disservice to my fellow man not to pursue my career to its fullest flower."

Alex didn't dare roll her eyes with her Papa looking at her like that. She'd heard it all before. For his part, Nikolas had hoped Alex was finally getting used to life in her new home. No such luck, apparently. At least, not yet.

Sensing the bit of tension between the family members, Charlotte showed remarkable presence of mind for her. That is, she kept her mouth shut and sipped her own chocolate.

A gangly young steward, fighting both his acne and his fear, appeared in a set of the cafè's doors. His bungling entrance caught everyone's eye and stopped all conversation dead. "Your attention, please," the steward said unnecessarily, "Captain Smith has ordered all passengers and crew to the boat deck immediately. Please dress warmly; return to your cabins only for proper outer garments." The boy kept cracking his facade of professionalism (and his voice) as his audience gaped at him.

Charlotte looked aghast. "Whatever for, sir?"

The steward gulped heavily, "The _Titanic_ has struck an iceberg, ma'am. Captain Smith feels it best if all aboard prepare for a possible evacuation." Plainly, the look on his face meant the steward knew this wasn't much of a possibility. More of a necessity. Charlotte wasn't sure if the boy was more scared of the evacuation's cause or the looks he was getting from her fellow passengers over his call to arms.

Even as other passengers began arguing with the unfortunate bearer of bad news, claiming the unsinkable _Titanic_ was in no danger, Nikolas turned to his daughter with stern calmness. "Let us go up immediately, Alex. Would you care to accompany us, Ms. Wahlsman?"

"Yes, but I must get my coat from my cabin, as the gentleman suggested," Charlotte reminded, "I'll only be a moment."

"Nyet," Nikolas said, stress bringing out his almost-forgotten accent, "We shall accompany you. Let us make haste."

Alex jumped to her feet and let her father help her struggle back into her overcoat. Never was Nikolas so grateful he made her bundle up like this. It had finally come in handy. He paused to let the steward know they'd be along to the boat deck and he needn't wait for them. Satisfied, the youth let them pass.

Charlotte led the way through the halls, which, although spacious for a passenger liner, were beginning to fill. Other stewards were beginning to lead their charges toward the boat deck despite their passengers' protests. Most seemed to think this a lot of rot that the captain was bothering them about needlessly.

Nikolas was just plain unwilling to take the chance with Alex. And Charlotte, for her part, was badly spooked by how seriously Nikolas was taking it. He was a knowledgeable scientist, after all. Surely she could trust his judgement.

So she was charging along in a distinctly unladylike fashion, actually elbowing some road blocks aside in her quest. Nikolas, blushing, murmured apologies for her as he led Alex along. The little girl couldn't keep up with Charlotte's frightened pace. Nikolas, having pity for her, scooped his daughter up to his shoulder with a grunt.

Alex locked her arms around her father's neck and silently drew his strength into her.

After reaching her cabin, it took Charlotte a few minutes to get ready. Throwing on her overcoat would be easy enough, but that would be the last step. Already feeling a chill from her lower decks as the splash of chocolate dried, Charlotte stripped off her hoop skirt to replace it with a clean garment. Suspecting she might be bound for the lifeboats, Charlotte decided to throw on an extra pair of thick, warm bloomers over her stockings too.

Charlotte did so - backwards. Charlotte began struggling to get her tight undergarments back off and properly arranged. Such ornate accessories would try even a well-coordinated woman, and Charlotte was not such a woman. With a few choice words she'd learned on another sea voyage to herself, she continued her struggle.

Meanwhile, Nikolas and Alex amused themselves in the outer room and tried to stay calm. Despite Charlotte's frequent thuds of positioning herself and a few words Nikolas didn't want Alex to learn. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything but Charlotte's jewelry case, luckily. Nikolas glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time. 12:20 am. Good morning, indeed.

Finally, looking very flustered, Charlotte reappeared. "Sorry," she gasped, thinking how her garments had never betrayed her before.

The scientist nodded absently, "Yes, yes. You are ready? Then let us go."

"Lead the way," Charlotte acquiesced.

Again Nikolas bore his daughter on the trip to the boat deck. They found themselves toward the front of the open-air deck. Grimly, Nikolas realized they were on the opposite side of the _Titanic_ from where they had seen the actual collision. A few lifetimes ago, seemingly. Nikolas noted the ship wasn't underway at all now. The mighty vessel was merely floating listlessly in the calm, glassy sea.

The deck was becoming crowded as people milled about. Not very many had their life vests on. As they pushed toward the front of the crowd, and the lifeboats themselves, all three heard many arguments going on at either side of them. Few passengers were taking it seriously as yet. But one counterpoint caught Nikolas' interest.

When someone claimed another ship was fast approaching, Nikolas turned quickly to the gunwale.

To his joyful surprise, he could see the distant, blinking masthead lights of another ship. And it was moving. Charlotte was beaming at it too. Alex, resting her feet on the gunwale, pointed downward instead. "Look, Papa," she insisted.

The adults peered after her outstretched finger. A lifeboat was already away, bearing much less human cargo than it should, but away nevertheless. A stewardess was passing through, happily explaining loudly, "Don't worry, the captain has ordered them to drop off the passengers with our rescuer and return, don't worry, everything will be fine…"

The stewardess' voice was drowned out momentarily by a cheer. Once the crowd died down again, Nikolas could hear the voice of Second Officer Charles Lightoller sternly commanding, "Women and children first in the lifeboats, if you please! We've plenty of time, gents, we can rough it for a few moments for their sakes!"

Suddenly realizing he was letting his daughter balance on a narrow rail hundreds of feet above the sea, Nikolas plunked her back onto the deck quickly. Alex gave him a reproachful look, but her Papa had already turned to Charlotte.

"My apologies for frightening you, Ms. Wahlsman. It seems our situation is not as dire as I feared," he said.

Somewhat her old self, Charlotte fluttered at him, "Oh, never fear, Professor. I'm afraid I overreacted a bit myself, didn't I?"

"Not at all," he said, feeling more than a little foolish about his own actions, "But might I trouble you for a favor?"

"Of course," she said unhesitatingly.

"Would you please take Alex with you on the lifeboat? She will need an adult to supervise her."

Charlotte was extremely flattered at this expression of trust. Before she could respond, though, Alex did. "No, Papa!" she cried.

His daughter clung to his waist like Nikolas was her anchor in a stormy sea. Which, Charlotte supposed, he was. Because of her grip, Nikolas couldn't bend down to reassure her. He had to ruffle the back of her neck again instead, adding, "It is only for a moment, sweetheart. At the worst, I might have to swim over to join you, eh?"

"You don't have a life preserver," she pointed out seriously.

"I will get one," he promised, "But first you must go with nice Ms. Wahlsman. She will keep you safe." Glancing back over her shoulder, Alex could see Charlotte nodding vigorously with her best smile.

"But I don't want to go with Ms. Wahlsman," Alex whined into his stomach, "I want to go with _you_."

Despite his comparative relief with rescue so close at hand, Nikolas had no time to argue. Sternly but quietly, he charged Alex, "You must go now. I trust her to take care of you, and I shall trust you to take care of her. Understood?"

It was a commanding tone, though little-used, and Alex nodded. "Yes, Papa."

"Good!" he straightened up and started looking around for a life vest for Alex.

His daughter's continuing grip on his waist tightened. Nikolas peered down to see what had attracted her. Charlotte, in turn, gazed after them as well.

Alex was staring over the thin rail into the sea like she was seeing the face of death itself there.

A blue glow, familiar only to Alex, was playing out among the ice somewhere between the _Titanic_ and her still-distant rescuer. For an instant the waving light extinguished, only to reappear in a much brighter ray that sprang from its origin point to intersect the approaching ship's running lights.

Where they met, there was a flash. And the running lights disappeared.

The silence greeting that flash among the watchers was broken only by the rumbling shockwave of the distant explosion passing by.

For a heartbeat, the silence continued. Then things got considerably uglier. The crowd began jostling around, some more reluctant than ever to leave the brightly-lit safety of the _Titanic_ to face this unknown danger. The others cried out for Captain Smith to get the ship underway at all speed.

"Why…" Charlotte moaned softly, "whatever happened? What was that?"

"I do not know," Nikolas was forced to admit, just as quietly.

Her rescue obliterated in front of her eyes, Alex was already moaning softly in fear. Now the merest thought that her father, the brilliant scientist, might not know what faced them from the dark night filled Alex with blind terror. She tore herself free of the tableau as well as Nikolas, dashing into the crowd.

Nikolas felt her go even as he felt all desire to let his daughter onto that dark sea in a lifeboat without him fled. He turned, but not in time to see her disappear into the press of bodies. Charlotte pointed.

"Stay here!" Nikolas ordered, "We'll be back shortly!" Then he headed off.

Charlotte cast a nervous glance ahead, toward the davits holding the lifeboats. As a warning shot from Lightoller's gun rang out, Charlotte winced. She realized that the Damascus might not have much time left to return before there'd be no space on a boat for any of them left.

She sighed. She was getting quite fond of the gentlemanly professor, after all. And perhaps motherhood wouldn't be so bad; she just might see herself getting on well with Alex in time…

"Well," she mumbled to herself, "All right then, I suppose."

After setting her mouth in a grim line, Charlotte tried to set her hat too. But she'd forgotten to get it back from Alex. She set off in a determined fashion anyway.

Nikolas saw the hat abandoned on a short ladder (_"Why do they call most_ _stairwells on ships a ladder anyway?_" his thoughts grumbled strangely) leading up from the boat deck toward the ship's foremost smokestack platform. He picked it up, eyeing all potential points of egress from its location. His heart leapt as he found Alex huddled, her back to the gigantic pipe, facing the opposite side of the ship from that awful scene of moments before.

Quietly, Nikolas fell to one knee next to his daughter. Her mittened hands were cupped around something. Something that reflected the pale starlight like ice but wasn't.

"May I see that?" he asked her. Alex nodded, handing the little chunk she'd retrieved to him. Without mittens, Nikolas could feel a strange, prickly warmth from the object. It was thick and rubbery like one of those newfangled automobile tires. He turned it over in his fingers a few times, wishing for better light to study it with, when Alex said, "It used to be ice. A piece of the iceberg. But now it's all melted."

_Hmm, ice melted __**off**__ of it, yes_, Nikolas thought.

Aloud, he said, "And it was very good of you to fetch it for me. I will need it to study later, after we get off the lifeboat."

Alex brightened at that. "You're coming too?"

"Of course," he reassured her, "I will not let you go." Nikolas found his daughter throwing herself around him once again. He slipped the fragment into his own pocket, murmuring a few soothing nothings into Alex's small ear. A small chilled area in her jacket, where she must've kept the melting object, paled next to his daughter's warmth.

The duo began to hear, over the crowd sounds, the _Titanic_'s musicians playing a upbeat ragtime tune. The sounds, bright, normal, happy, calmed most of the listeners. Even the Damascus as they clung to each other a little less desperately.

A rustle of skirts let him know Charlotte had found them as well. Absently, Nikolas passed the lady her hat back. As Charlotte replaced her headgear, Alex's grip tightened. For a second, Nikolas thought it was with dislike for the newcomer butting into their family moment. But then he heard Charlotte gasp. Quickly, Nikolas gathered his daughter up and whirled around to face this latest danger.

He saw nothing. Just dark ocean, now, the fiery destruction having long since faded. At his shoulder, Alex pointed as she whispered, "What is that, Papa?"

It was a dark shape, the jagged outline of another iceberg that hadn't been there moments before. Even though the _Titanic_ herself had become motionless some time ago. For a few seconds, Nikolas stared hard at it for signs of malevolence.

"What?" Nikolas finally said, getting irritated.

"It _moved_," Charlotte answered, "It was almost - there!"

As she spoke, the _Titanic_ began her last-ditch effort to attract other ships to her plight - in spite of their first helper's fate. It was a sign of utter desperation on the part of the crew.

Someone on the port bow, their side of the ship, fired a signal rocket directly up into the still air. And with a whoosh and a bright red pop, for a split second, their distant mystery guest stood revealed.

The creature - for that is indisputably what it was - was standing on its muscular hind legs like a man. Its long, sinuous tail draped across the large, flat iceberg that kept most of its bulk out of the water. Its hide, grooved and pitted like it had been burned into its darkened shade, reflected the red signal rocket's flare eerily. The reptile's small, square head turned upward on its thick bullish neck to track the flare. Great yellow eyes glowed with intellect, curiosity, and a eerily cat-like similarity.

The animal was far enough away that Nikolas could only estimate its size. Dread swept over him as he realized that only the _Titanic_ could make this gargantuan creature seem small by comparison. He noted also the twin rows of razor teeth, perpetually bared by the lipless animal in a feral grimace, shine as it looked at the flare. Quickly the flare died out, casting it once again into a shadowy figure halfway to the horizon.

For a moment none of the three could speak. Incredulous, Nikolas listened to the continuing chatter and sounds of music continuing around him unabated. Yes, the animal was a long way off, but had they really been the only ones to see it-?

That question was answered by another signal rocket going off, straight above the ship itself like its predecessor. Nikolas got another look and realized he had only seen it because the women had been looking in just the right place at just the right time.

The creature had turned slightly, but the flare quickly attracted its - his? - attention again. This animal turned back to follow it, but not before Nikolas saw three rows of great bone-white plates sprouting from his back. Their jagged shapes were hauntingly familiar…

"Papa," Alex breathed against his chest, "He's the iceberg. The iceberg!"

Gulping once, slowly, Nikolas knew it to be true. Whatever this beast was, it had been sleeping just beneath the ocean's surface long enough for his bony back to accrue a thick sheen of ice.

And the impact from the _Titanic_ seemed to have awakened him.

Now that he had sought them out, what would happen now?

Nikolas had no desire to wait around and find out.

"Come," he took Charlotte's hand with his free one, pulling her toward the starboard side - away from the monster. Despite it all, something of his people's dark, grim sense of humor almost made him laugh at the irony. He could still hear the musicians' jaunty tunes over the crowd blissfully unaware of the animal lurking nearby.

Charlotte's mouth was still hanging open at the sight. They'd nearly reached the ladder leading down onto the starboard boat deck when she dug in her heels. Trying to contain himself, Nikolas turned back to her with, "What? It is time to go, don't you agree?"

"Not out there!" she returned, "Not with that—**thing**!"

Nikolas grimaced, letting Charlotte know she was voicing his own concerns. "Yet we cannot stay on a sinking ship, eh? It is a slim chance, but it _is_ one."

Alex was trembling violently against him. Nikolas was forced to release Charlotte for a better grip on his little girl. Charlotte still didn't like the plan, but she stepped forward to rejoin Nikolas and his burden anyway.

Overhead, another signal flare popped and whooshed.

Despite himself, Nikolas found his gaze turned back toward the animal.

Or rather, toward where the animal had _been_. The iceberg he had been standing on bobbed unconcerned in the swells.

Charlotte looked back as well, adding with relief, "It's left! Thank God, it's left!"

_Or it is simply moving closer,_ he thought. Unwilling to say this aloud, Nikolas allowed Charlotte to prod him after her this time.

Unlike Officer Lightoller to port, Nikolas didn't recognize the crew members organizing the evacuation here at starboard. As he got into the throng starting to mass, he saw a few men being allowed into the lifeboats. His entire being soared with hope.

Ahead, Charlotte was being quickly but enthusiastically encouraged to get in the boat. She refused, waving, "They're with me, officer." She gave the steward a decidedly friendly grin along with his awfully big promotion.

Both stewards, one of them armed with a loaded pistol, frowned at him as he bore his daughter near. But Charlotte interceded again.

She laid a hand on the skinny steward's arm, looking up into his eyes with doleful innocence. "You wouldn't let that poor man," she purred softly, "leave his darling little daughter alone on this big, scary old lifeboat, now would you? Let him come, for her sake…and for me."

The steward nodded once, quickly, before stepping regretfully out of Charlotte's grasp so Nikolas and Alex could pass him. Charlotte, for her part, felt vindicated after her femininity's betrayal when getting dressed earlier. At least, she did until she tripped getting into the lifeboat and fell more than sat on the bench.

Sitting down, Nikolas could tell that any in the crowd who doubted Charlotte's sincerity didn't seem to mind his escape once they saw how young Alex was. And that was easily observed as she finally peeled herself off Nikolas' chest enough to peer, owlishly, at the little boat around her.

Once the lifeboat was lowered to the waves, Nikolas found he had to leave Alex after all - somewhat. The only other two men aboard were manning the till and one oar; Nikolas volunteered for the other. He gingerly picked his way over the crowded benches to his station.

Without complaint, Alex shifted over next to Charlotte. Both women kept craning their necks from the lifeboat's stern, trying to watch Nikolas work ahead of them at the same time as the _Titanic_ sinking behind. Intercut through the mens' grunts of effort, all aboard could still hear the musicians plying their trade relentlessly.

Then, steadily, each soul aboard the well-filled lifeboat began to notice another sound. A loud, rhythmic gust of air pulsing not that far away.

They were actually fortunate enough that this lifeboat had a small electric beacon onboard. Charlotte retrieved it, waving the little beam around like a Morse lantern, searching for the origin of the noise.

It was the creature's breath.

She dropped the beacon into the waves with a gasp. Nobody dared reprimand her. Nikolas' mind raced, _Under the ship, he came under the ship, my God, he swam under us…_

The creature's head alone stood above the waves, not forty feet away. He paid no mind to the vessel plowing by so near. The monster's eyes were half-closed beneath his thick, brooding brow ridges. Vestigial ears, sticking out like a dog's, twitched as the beast breathed deeply, regularly, calmly.

He was listening to the music, Nikolas realized.

As one, those aboard the lifeboat (whether they knew what Nikolas did, or simply because of their own survival instincts) held their breath. He and his fellow rower had stopped rowing. Now Nikolas hoped their momentum would be enough to carry them past the enormous creature unnoticed. And all, in the silence of their own minds, prayed for deliverance.

The monster continued to seem pleased. He simply let the music float over his ears like the gentle swells pushing him up and down in the ocean.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the lifeboat made its way. Nikolas reached out with an oar to push off a piece of drift ice before the boat got hung up on it. His reach slipped, and the oar made a loud _plop_ against the ocean. Heads whirled; but not the animal's. Meanwhile, Charlotte couldn't pry her eyes from the enormous head to see Alex burrowing into her skirts for safety.

Nikolas' heart stopped. Because the band had. For a moment the only sound filling the night air was the continuing _whoosh-pop_ of the last signal rockets.

He started badly instead when a hellish howl like a hundred thousand tea kettles going off burst from the _Titanic_'s three functional smokestacks. Along with everything else on the ship, the fourth stack - intended mainly for decoration - vibrated with the sound's passing.

Shocked out of his reverie, the monster's jaws opened in a angry, keening bell-like roar.

The bizarre cry was drowned out by the steam being released from the ship's boilers for those still aboard the _Titanic_. But for those on the lifeboat, it seemed the death knell that nearly shattered their eardrums.

Even as the boilers quieted forever, the monster leaned forward in the water. His tail appeared from beneath the waves, dangerously close to the lifeboat, to begin pumping him forward. Desperately, the lifeboat turned aside; too sharply in the roiling water. The overcrowded boat lost a few inmates to the seas as the boat pitched back and forth wildly. Nikolas strained at his oar to keep the tiny vessel from swamping completely. Miraculously, the lifeboat straightened out with only a little water splashing around her remaining occupants' feet.

Prophetically, the band struck up a rendition of "_Nearer My God to Thee_".

Caution was tossed to the wind. Between the creature's own movement and their original drifting, they were far enough away now to escape notice as he and his fellow 'crewmember' took to their oars with relish. Or so everyone hoped.

The animal still did not deign to notice them. His unblinking gaze was focused squarely on the giant ship. Nikolas, sitting backwards in his rowing pose, had plenty of opportunity to watch the beast draw near to mankind's greatest technological achievement of all time.

It was the last tune the _Titanic_ ever heard. Captain Smith must've ordered the musicians free to go; they did not play again. For a few moments, Nikolas, Charlotte, and Alex watched the silhouette of the beast's spiky back against _Titanic_'s bright lights slowly fall behind.

Someone aboard the mammoth vessel finally noticed the great monster. One remaining signal flare went up as it should; the other was fired desperately into the creature's face to ward him off. It simply made him angry. The monster's roar sent droplets of water skipping along the ocean's surface even at the lifeboat's widening distance.

The beast reared up in the water, crashing into the ship's side with razing tooth and claw. For an instant, one of _Titanic_'s boilers appeared - remarkably intact - from her innards and bounced off the creature's hip, into the ocean. The monster continued forward, rending the much larger vessel steadily in two. Wood and steel peeled aside from his flashing claws like butter.

With a final blow and screech of torn metal, the entire forward half of the _Titanic_ yielded to the water filling her belly. It slipped beneath the waves with, perhaps, merciful swiftness for those still trapped aboard.

The stern, buoyed up by air still caught within, was leaning over to stand upright. The decorative smokestack broke free of its moorings and bounced harmlessly off the monster's side. Its impact on the ocean was not so harmless to the merely human swimmers trying desperately to escape.

Their mystery guest took this as one final challenge from his erstwhile opponent. The beast roared again, a eerie cry unleashed from the depths of Hell itself, as it grappled with the stern like a living thing. Its crushing grip shattered the remains of _Titanic_ like a hammer striking thin ice. Surprised, the beast found himself falling face-first through the shattered remnants and back into the waves. He rolled around in the ocean for a few seconds, almost comically, as the monster got his bearings back.

**Almost** comically, that is. For not even Nikolas' dour sense of humor could appreciate the sight. Not with the screams of fear, the desperate calls for aid from the divine or even mortal means, reverberating off the ice floes around them. Unable to bear the foul spectacle any longer, Nikolas returned to the womens' side. There was no further point in rowing; there was nowhere to row **to** at the moment.

With a gentle grip, Nikolas pulled his daughter free of Charlotte's skirts. "Don't look, Alex," he whispered, "Please don't look anymore." Firmly, her father braced her against his shoulder and put her back to the retreating spectacle.

She turned her head anyway, in time to catch the monster's silhouette rise from the depths once more. For a moment, the creature's eyes caught the starshine as he looked around for any further sign of resistance. Then he threw back his head for a bellow that could only be described as a victory cry.

Finally, Alex did do as told, and put her gaze toward the lifeboat's bow. It was hard to make out any of her fellow refugees through her silent tears.

So it was Nikolas and Charlotte, out of the three, that saw the mysterious stranger slip straight down and back into the night from whence he'd came.

After a time - after their grief and fear of the creature's continued presence has subsided since it had not reappeared - the three found themselves huddled together against the stark night. Nikolas had retrieved the fragment of the beast from his jacket pocket in silent wonder. "Yes," Nikolas whispered, barely audible, "Too bad. Too bad…the music did not really soothe the savage beast, eh?"

Alex did not smile, but her eyes turned up a little. She shared her father's sense of humor. It would be something Charlotte would have to get used to.

Upon their rescue, some of the survivors did indeed report the bizarre animal. Those that did were promptly locked up in mental institutions. No one else, including the Damascus, were foolish enough to try. Although, looking back on these terrible events as the years passed and adulthood gave her a wider perspective, Alex wondered dourly if those patients had ended up there because people truly thought them insane…or had the combined tourism industry merely united in a cover-up? After all, who would dare sail the seas for business _or_ pleasure with such a unstoppable creature on the loose?

Of course, the _Titanic_ disaster was more than enough of a tragedy with the beast left out in any case.

Yet the monster never did reappear to Alex's knowledge.

No, when she looked back on it decades later, Alex usually found great irony in how she'd thought herself, her Papa, and her future stepmother had escaped unscathed that night. They hadn't, not quite. And it was all her fault, no matter what her parents said.

She'd never heard of radioactivity being dangerous then. Damn that stupid witch Madame Curie anyway. The Mother of Radioactivity had never suspected it might be harmful, despite her first husband's practice of regularly burning himself with it and studying the healing of the wounds. Even now, Alex read in the papers, Curie denied that 30+ years of radioactive exposure had anything to do with her own swiftly impending death.

No, Alex thought, damn me for not seeing the parallels between her own research and Curie's sooner. The piece of the stranger who'd appeared that night was indeed radioactive. So small an object, but its output so persistent and potent. Her father's repeated long-term exposure because of his own studies of it had doomed him to lung cancer. And she, following in his scientific footsteps in spite of all resistance to a female scientist, had discovered the reason for his demise even as the radioactivity finally began to inflame her own body.

At least Alex found some comfort in how not Charlotte, nor her own husband, or any of their friends and family had picked jobs so close to the object for so long as to become infected as well.

Yes, some comfort.

Cold comfort.

Almost as cold as that dark, moonless night when two strangers touched so briefly, so irrevocably, so permanently…

**THE END**

Text, original characters, and events Copyright © 2003 Keith E. Kimball.

Other fictional characters Copyright © their respective holders, including but not limited to Toho Eiga Ltd.

This is a fan work and not for profit.

Historical events and persons mentioned in this text are in the public domain and used for fictional purposes only.


End file.
